


i said it, i meant it

by mehenisms



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, best friends to best friends with benefits i guess lol, petra is a little shit who pissed ikora off and kinda turned her on by half-accident, so uhhhhhh this is like my fav ship now oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehenisms/pseuds/mehenisms
Summary: “I said it,” she sputtered out. Then, after taking a breath: “If I said it; I meant it.”That was all Ikora needed to hear.





	i said it, i meant it

**Author's Note:**

> first smut ive written in a while, and first smut ever posted somewhere, so be gentle w/ me lol
> 
> why did i start shipping this? i honestly dont remember what triggered it, but like...BIG otp
> 
> lmk what you think! <33
> 
> ( suggested listening: drive by melissa ferrick; come over to my house (lunice remix) by herizen )

The silence of the open-air hangar was broken only by a soft rumble of ship thrusters pushing back against themselves, slowing the ship to a hovering stop. Before it even stopped moving, Ikora phased out of her jumpship via on-ship transmat and hung in midair for a long second before dropping to the cold metal floor beneath her, gliding the last six inches of the fall to break it. As soon as her feet touched the catwalk, she immediately began storming towards the one figure who lingered here at such a strange time of half-morning-half-night. 

Ikora leaned into her brisk, stalking pace and Petra had to swallow a second of anxiety-butterflies. The Warlock’s hands were fists; her expression was dark with a soft scowl, and her face glowed with the flickering light of her eyes, shining bright as stars - or perhaps...perhaps wildfires, Petra thought. She steeled herself—

—but it was not enough. Ikora closed the distance between them, and they came together: Ikora suddenly had a handful of Petra’s jacket and braced her other hand against her shoulder. The force of this collision caused Petra to stumble backwards only in part due to the shock of it - she found seconds later that Ikora was...intentionally pushing her? Oh. She realized that in a few more strides, Ikora would have her against a wall. 

The two women locked eyes, and it was all Petra could do to not hold her breath. Being this close to those eyes, those lips, that tongue, those teeth...it was breathtaking. It seemed that Ikora noticed her expression and let out a dark laugh under her breath that dropped like a weight; she hesitated for a moment. 

“Don’t fuss,” she breathed, hot and heavy. Petra watched her mouth move with a wide-eye, and time seemed to slow down. The Warlock tilted her head slightly, as if to ask a question, once Petra managed to drag her gaze away from Ikora’s mouth and back up to her eyes. “Life’s too short not to rush.” 

Choking back her awe, Petra managed to speak. “I said it,” she sputtered out. Then, after taking a breath: “If I said it; I meant it.” 

That was all Ikora needed to hear. 

_____________________________________________

   
Ikora had a fistful of Petra’s soft pink hair, and used it to drag her up from behind, pressing herself against Petra’s bare back. 

The Warlock was warm and filled with Solar energy; Petra wouldn’t have needed to be Awoken to feel her Light pressing outward on the universe around her, seemingly ready to burst forth at any moment. She had always thought highly of the Warlock Vanguard – well, almost always; time had worn down her naïve perceptions of the City and its leadership – but being here, like this, so close and so vulnerable, she realized: Ikora was more than  _just_ the greatest Warlock of the City. 

Head tilted back, giving in to Ikora’s excitingly rough grip on her hair, she flicked her eye back to stare at what she could see of those shining eyes from her peripheral vision. She was glad to find Ikora slowly and deliberately taking in the sight of her like this: Her entire body blushing and covered in marks Ikora herself had so carefully placed on her shimmering blue skin. 

When Ikora brought her eyes up to meet hers after a tantalizingly slow moment, gaze sharp and piercing, Petra shuddered with anxious excitement. Evidently, Ikora noticed. 

Not but a few seconds later, Petra felt the warm touch of Ikora’s palm gliding forward to caress her thigh, careful and slow. Despite Ikora’s battle-scarred appearance and toned body, her skin was like velvet, and the hands that Petra had thought would be rough and callused were delicate and tender, with carefully manicured (  _short_ ) nails and not a blemish to be seen on her beautiful, soft skin. As delightfully vicious as Ikora had been tonight, the smallest reminders of her gentle nature were everywhere; all over her body, all around her, and in every soft, quiet breath she breathed. Petra could never be sure what side of her she liked better. 

She couldn’t do anything about her own sharp inhale when Ikora’s fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. She was glad, though, because Ikora froze...and laughed. It was quiet, low, husky, dark – and right in Petra’s ear. As if she needed anything else to turn her on; she was way past the point of no return and if anyone was going to get her there, well, she wouldn’t regret that it was Ikora. 

Petra could feel herself dripping, more than ready for anything Ikora could throw at her. She wondered for a moment if this would change their relationship from friends to friends wi--

A breathy, surprised moan left her parted lips as she reflexively arched her back, sitting taller. With a quiet snicker, Ikora slipped her fingers out of Petra with a quick flick of her clit and openly relished in the way her Awoken friend blindly reached back with her hands to steady herself, taking fistfuls of sheets as she absently searched for anything to give her a grip. It was unsurprisingly endearing. Ikora always knew Petra would be this way in bed, and she never had to actually bed her to know it: She had never made much fuss of trying to hide it.

“Is it too much?” Ikora whispered in Petra’s ear as she quivered, still recovering from one simple touch. Petra shook her head ever so slightly, and Ikora relaxed her grip on those pretty pink curls, deciding to run her fingers through them once, twice. Rather than being unconvinced, Ikora felt that to not hear Petra’s whining in this moment would be disappointing in hindsight, and so with a few gentle motions she rubbed just behind Petra’s ear and then allowed her fingers to glide through her messy hair again, savoring the moment. Petra’s eye fluttered closed in bliss.

In a flash, Ikora had a handful of pink once again, and tugged just enough to warrant a soft hiss and a bit lip from Petra. She smirked – it had been too long since she’d had a woman like this. “ _Tell_ me, Venj.”

With a surprising amount of playful defiance, Petra tilted her head back and to the side to get as close to facing Ikora as she could in her current situation. “I said it,” she almost whispered, “and if I said it--”

A deep, quiet growl rolled in Ikora’s throat as she withdrew her hand from Petra’s thigh and sat up on her knees to push Petra’s head into the bed – rough, like she’d been pressed for, but gentle enough that both could be reminded that they shared their best interest in this act. A sheet-muffled yelp escaped Petra’s mouth and Ikora now bent over her, hips pressed to Petra’s raised ass and chest to her back. 

Holding on to that defiance, Petra struggled to push up with her hands, but managed it well ( regardless of knowing that Ikora was merely allowing it ). With so much skin-on-skin, Petra could feel a nagging burn, almost like an itch, wherever they touched – the woes of bedding a Lightbearer. She didn’t entirely mind, though, and Ikora knew it...which is why she teased her so badly. She’d never had sex with a Guardian, but she’d always been a bit curious, and what real harm could possibly come of it, so long as her Corsairs didn’t find out? 

They’d never find out, so it wouldn’t matter that she fell in bed a Guardian, that the Guardian in question was Ikora Rey, and that Petra let her fuck her until she could hardly move – At least, that was the plan. She was ready for a long night; not sleeping with Ikora would definitely be better than not sleeping by herself due to the stress of regency. 

“Don’t fight with me,” Ikora laughs. “Don’t fuss.” Left hand still roughly gripping Petra’s hair, Ikora slipped her other down Petra’s flank, running her fingers over the ridges of her ribs before slowly, teasingly, finding her mark. As she moved ever so carefully between Petra’s legs, just barely avoiding her clit to tease her, Ikora put more pressure on Petra’s head again, hoping to get her to stay down so they can both ease into this. Thankfully, she didn’t fight the wordless suggestion, and instead settled into it, waiting and eager. 

“There now, isn’t that better?” Ikora released her hard grip on Petra’s hair, fingers still entangled in her curls, and rubbed her scalp to soothe her. Tense as she was, and still would be, Petra did visibly relax a bit – Her shoulders rolled forward with gravity, and her back didn’t seem so tight. “ _Much_ better, I’d say.” With that, Ikora slipped two fingers inside of Petra, and reveled in the disgusting, muffled groan she got in return: Her own breath came a little sharper, faster. This could be even better than she’d thought. 

Petra’s staggered  _“ye-_ _essss_ ” would have been enough to keep her going, but when she bucked her hips against Ikora’s hand, Ikora couldn’t help but let out a little noise of her own. 

“ _Fuck_ , Petra,” she breathed out heavily, eyebrows knitted and lips left parted as she all but watched Petra grind her ass against her hips and use her fingers like a toy, “are you always--” A ragged breath, then a swallow to wet her dry throat, “--always like this?” She only got an  _aah_ _-ah-_ _hhhh_  in response, and she couldn’t mind. 

Slow and steady was clearly not the way Petra wanted to race, but Ikora had nowhere to be. Nowhere that would miss her much, anyway: As the liaison to the Reef, and Petra’s best friend, Zavala had barely batted an eye when Ikora slung something like “There’s a situation I have to deal with regarding Petra” at him as she’d practically run out the door. Their bond reassured him beyond any words that she was fine, she knew, and as long as she wasn’t openly suffering from gunshot wounds or anything else, he wouldn’t question whatever feelings and sensations leaked over their Light bond...but she didn’t necessarily want to, ahem, share this experience with him. She had blocked off certain aspects of their bond before without any problems, but as Petra’s whines and moans grew louder and more intense every time she took Ikora a little deeper, Ikora found it increasingly difficult to allow even the smallest concentration to linger on staving off that connection. The only relationship she wanted to focus on in this moment was with Petra. 

As Petra kept bucking and thrusting, Ikora dragged her left hand from Petra’s head down her neck, across her back, and let it rest on her ass before beginning to move with her. She found it almost mesmerizing to watch Petra move, especially from this angle. Everyone had a pattern, Ikora knew, and Awoken were absolutely no exception ( if anything, they were more prone to patterns ), but there was a small element of chaos to Petra’s, and it was strangely enchanting: It seemed almost like she was constantly changing her mind about the most minute details, such as how deep she wanted Ikora, whether or not it felt better to buck or grind, and even the proper times to let out the wheezing sighs and nasty moans she almost sounded like she was holding back. 

Ikora never did anything halfway. Petra had known that for decades. 

Despite whining protests and continued – but halfhearted – hip sways, Ikora removed herself from Petra entirely, leaning back to sit on her heels and admire her work thus far. The visible wetness dripping down Petra’s thighs was intoxicating. With a deep huff of breath and some slight straining, Petra slowly flopped over onto her side before rolling onto her back, eye still closed. When she opened it and set her sight on Ikora again, she found her resting with her hands palms-down on her bare thighs, eyes aglow as she looked over Petra as if studying her. It had been years since Petra had decided that Warlocks are, more or less, weird half-Techeuns, although she was aware of the flaws in that logic. Watching Ikora sit in a meditative pose and breathe so slowly, so evenly...it was difficult not to roll her eye. 

As if on cue, Ikora leaned forward and crawled toward Petra until she could brace a hand on the bed on either side of her head, holding herself up over her now-quivering Awoken friend. Petra’s excitement was palpable. With the grace of royalty and the strength of a Crucible champion, Ikora bent her elbows to dip herself down near Petra’s neck and, with a gentle nudge to get her to tilt her head, began her labor.

Ikora’s tongue, teeth, and lips left Petra feeling like she’d caught fire everywhere they touched. She loved it. It wasn’t hard to see why some other Awoken could hardly tolerate being in the same vicinity as a Guardian, but she’d always been made of stronger stuff. Her pain tolerance and threshold were high, and she was more grateful for that now than almost any other time before: Ikora was not being gentle. She’d found a spot she liked and had gotten to work. 

“Mm _mngh_ ,” Petra choked back a cry of pain, her breathing rugged and uneven as Ikora bit and sucked on her delicate skin. When she finally drew back just enough to examine her own handiwork, Ikora hissed and raised her eyebrows, which was more than Petra needed to know that it was dark and would be there for a while. She could  _feel_ it, and she could also feel that this was not going to be the last hickey she received from Ikora tonight. There was a hunger brewing behind those golden-orange eyes, now. It was plain to see, and the sight of Ikora staring her down and licking her lips filled her to the brim with excited anticipation. 

“More,” she breathed.

Petra let loose a loud, gasping moan when Ikora finally seemed content with the purple color she’d drawn out all across her bare chest, and buried her fingers in those short brown ringlet curls. Since the Red War, Ikora had let her hair grow out a little; this wasn’t the first time Petra had noticed, and admittedly it wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to grab a handful of it, either. Something akin to a rumbling purr found its way to Petra’s ears as she took hold of those little curls, and Ikora, in a moment of bliss, leaned her head into Petra’s hands. 

 _A-ha_.

She had a hold on her, now, and she wasn’t going to waste it. With a gentle shove, she pushed Ikora away from her...toward her hips. Ikora didn’t need more prompting. Settling down with ease, she hooked her arms around the outside of Petra’s bent knees, decided on the right way to grip her thighs, and didn’t hesitate to dive right in. The moment Ikora’s tongue touched her clit, Petra couldn’t bite her tongue anymore.

Whenever Ikora shifted or tightened her grip on her thighs, or went from gently sucking on her clit to deep, slower licks along her whole length, Petra was crying out with pleasure, moaning encouragement, tangling her fingers in those soft curls and pulling hard enough to earn grunts from Ikora as she worked. It wasn’t long before she threw her head back, back arched, and cried out, breathy and loud:

“Iko-k _ora_ \--….”

Her bright eyes half-lidded, Ikora lifted her head from between Petra’s legs and licked her lips, the edges of which were turned up in a faint, sly smile. “You’re not quite finished yet.” She skipped a beat, and Petra lolled her head forward again to meet her fiery gaze. “Would you like to be?” Ikora’s voice was low, sultry, and exactly what Petra wanted to hear.

“Please...,” she groaned, nearly whimpering. “Ikora.”

“What?”

“Please.”

A moment of silence hung between them as Petra writhed beneath Ikora’s grip, shifting her hips and dragging one hand down to caress Ikora’s face. Ikora let out a deep huff of breath, and only blinked slowly at Petra expectantly. 

“Rey,” Petra eased out of a whine to speak more clearly. She could feel Ikora’s Light shift suddenly; she almost perked up visibly. “I want to come for you, p--”

Before she could even finish her  _please_ , Ikora had dipped back down between Petra’s legs with renewed vigor, her bright eyes open and determined to watch every expression Petra made from that moment on. It was all Petra could do to suppress a loud cry of pleasure as Ikora flicked and flitted, sucked and nibbled, lingered and teased. She couldn’t keep still, and certainly couldn’t keep quiet. Writhing and wriggling under Ikora’s grasp, one hand still tangled in her hair and the other now slapped down and holding a fistful of sheets, Petra could feel herself getting closer and closer, and she was certain Ikora could feel it too. 

And within moments, Petra was pulling so hard on the sheets that they both felt a corner tug off from underneath the bed, causing the rest to go a little slack beneath them both. Ikora didn’t know what to expect when Petra orgasmed, but she wasn’t disappointed with what she got: Petra cried out, loud and disjointed, possibly trying to say her name as she arched her back and rocked her hips forward towards Ikora one last time, her entire body shaking with ecstasy. 

When Petra relaxed her grip ( or she just couldn’t maintain it anymore ), Ikora unwove herself from her legs and sat up again. Wiping her face with her forearm, she leaned back to watch as Petra’s labored, heavy breathing slowly returned to a normal pace, and couldn’t stop herself from grinning when Petra’s blue eye blinked open to look at her. 

“Are you satisfied?” Ikora‘s smug smile edged into her voice. She couldn’t help it. Petra merely huffed and puffed in response. She let a moment go by before speaking again, a bit of thoughtfulness – or perhaps hesitance? -- lacing her low tone now. “...We should do this again.” A brief pause, then: “If you’re up for it.”

Petra whistled low and slow. Ikora tilted her head slightly.

“Now that I know how to get your attention, Rey.”

Petra grinned toothily, and stretched her arms back behind her head. Ikora’s soft laughter echoed through the room, and sent a shiver down Petra’s spine. Yes, Ikora was much more than the greatest Warlock the City had to offer. She was a beautiful affront to the senses; a whole universe condensed to walk among humanity, speaking a language that few bothered to try to learn.

And that mouth could kill. 

**Author's Note:**

> any thoughts, advice, or opinions? please share!!! i proofread this at 1am on a work night... 
> 
> i know i always seem to pick out the most obscure/least shipped femslash in destiny lol so don't be scared to comment if you ship it too <3 or better yet, if i made you ship it :eyes:
> 
> ikora is a bigtime top/dom (with lowkey bottoming fantasies) and petra is a nasty bottom who will do anything to please. she's also got the highest libido in the whole solar system im convinced
> 
> kinda did this just to pick up an old snippet of writing and actually continue with something i'd started, lol. also used it as an experiment with tone/mood, especially in something where you dont always see the more...not whimsical writing per se, but like, hopefully you get what i mean? more abstract flair in some senses, maybe? idk. 
> 
> anyway, lmk what you think and how you feel and if i should do more? im always looking for some prompts or encouragement! thats how i end up writing 90% of what i post tbh :b


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